


Dirty Talk

by aussiebee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Derek Hale tries hard, Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP, Phone Sex Operator Stiles, Smut, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, slight Erica/Stiles (kind of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 12:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13570290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussiebee/pseuds/aussiebee
Summary: Stiles gets a job as a phone sex operator.The pack finds out.Derek... well, Derek has his own ideas on how it's done.





	Dirty Talk

**  
**Things had been rough for a while there, what with the whole supernatural, monster of the week, perpetual mortal peril thing that Stiles had been involved in and _kept a secret from him_ , but since the big reveal things had been better between them. John had begun rebuilding trust and faith with Stiles, the sinking feeling in his stomach still there when he saw the bruises and dark circles beneath his eyes but caused by concern rather than a bitterness at feeling like such a woeful excuse for a father. **  
**

But _dear god,_  sometimes he regretted the full disclosure pact they seemed to have formed.

“Heeey, Dad,” Stiles said with a wide grin, greeting him with a plate of bacon and bacon-fried eggs with a pile of buttery toast.

John jerked to a stop in the kitchen doorway and scowled. “Nope,” he said sternly, folding his arms across his chest.

“What?” Stiles asked, eyes wide with faux-innocence, just the way his mother had used to do when she was trying to convince of something she knew he wouldn’t want to do.

“Whatever it is you want, or plan on doing, the answer is no.” He sat at the table and lifted up his fork, only to have the plate tugged out from in front of him.

“No, but listen,” his son said earnestly, dropping down into the seat opposite him. “It’s one hundred percent safe, I can do it from home and as of last month, I can make total bank, and it’s even totally legal! This time.”

John stared at Stiles for a beat, mouth hanging open. “I can assure you  _one hundred percent_  that prostitution is still illegal in the state of California.” The curious mix of pleased and insulted that tried to balance itself across Stiles’ face would have been hilarious in any other context, but as it was, John was just busy trying not to hyperventilate. “And what the hell do you mean by ‘this time’?”

Stiles snorted a laugh. “While I’m incredibly flattered that you think I could be a successful hooker-- thanks, by the way-- that’s not actually what I meant.”

“Thank god,” John breathed, the sudden tension leaving him to slump forward on the table. “Okay, whatever it is, just tell me.”

“I was  _trying_  to before you interrupted me with your baseless accusation. What I was  _going_  to say,” he continued pedantically, “is that I had a trial run as a phone sex operator last week and I made three hundred bucks! And apparently I have people calling back asking for me again, so if I want it, I’ve got the job.”

Aaand he was back to staring at his kid. “I-- you--” He stopped and sighed. “Jesus, Stiles.” He dragged the plate back towards himself and began eating, ignoring Stiles’ indignant protest. “If my heart can survive the heart attack the last three minutes of my life has become,” he said with an accusatory stab of his fork, “it can survive bacon.” He scowled, collected what was left of his composure, and narrowed his eyes at his son. “Now talk.”

*

They arranged a system where, if there was a sock on the doorknob between the hours of eight p.m. and midnight, John would knock and wait for an answer before entering. He would also never, ever, ‘under pain of hearing things your ears are too pure and innocent to hear, Dad’ pick up the second phone Stiles left at the house. In return, Stiles swore up and down that he would never abuse the system by using it to sneak out on supernatural business.

Oddly enough, for the first time in recent history, it worked. John asked no questions, Stiles told no lies, and apart from the argument when John realised Stiles was putting most of his money into the mortgage--

_“But it’s not your job, Stiles. You’re my son, for crying out loud.”_

_“I’m eighteen and I live here, Dad. Besides, you can’t stop me. You can deal with werewolves, and you can deal with this.”_

\--everything was actually going okay for once.

*

Pack Night at the loft usually went one of two ways: everyone ate as much of whatever that night’s dinner was and ended up rolling home in a food coma, or someone became the focus of the pack’s collective attention and the evening devolved into a teasingly interrogative nightmare.

The worst part about Stiles being ‘it’ was that he brought it on himself.

He was in the kitchen almost six months after the initial conversation with his dad, pulling the enormous cast iron casserole pot from the oven while Derek added butter and milk to the huge bowl of potatoes he was mashing, the soundbar playing quietly from its position on top of the fridge. They moved around the kitchen and each other easily, used to occupying the same space as they worked. When Stiles lifted the lid off the Le Creuset pot (a Christmas present from Derek that had had Stiles speechless for a full minute before he’d laughed disbelievingly and tackled Derek into an exuberant hug on the sofa) Derek stopped what he was doing in favour of stepping in behind Stiles and inhaling deeply, his eyes fluttering closed in pleasure as the scents of rich beef, red wine, garlic, thyme and onion filled his nose.

“Smells good, huh?” Stiles asked, leaning back a little against Derek’s chest and smirking happily down at the slow-cooked beef cheeks bubbling in the pot.

“Smells  _incredible,”_  Derek confirmed, his voice low and rumbly with vibration against Stiles’ back, making him shiver as he basked in the approval.

“Can you grab me one of the serving bowls?” Stiles asked. “I need to blend this braising liquid into a sauce.” Missing the furnace-like heat as Derek stepped away to fetch the requested dish, Stiles used a slotted spoon to carefully lift the meat out, pleased at the way it practically melted apart even with his gentle handling. He loved nights like this, the times he got Derek all to himself, enough to provide sufficient fuel for the flame of his unrequited thing to continue burning.

Derek sat at the island counted to watch Stiles as he worked, sliding a bowl across the counter for him to place the thyme stalks, bay leaves and whole peppercorns into before he put the huge 12-quart pot onto the gas and began using a stick blender to thicken the liquid left over.

Stiles glanced up, his mouth quirking upwards in a crooked grin upon finding Derek watching him closely, before flicking a glance at the doorway to make sure none of the pack were able to see them. He reached behind himself to pull a clean fork from the cutlery drawer and passed it to Derek, nudging the bowl of meat towards him with a conspiratorial grin. Derek’s eyes glowed with good humour as he forked a small piece of meat out, steam rising from it as he carefully put it in his mouth, sighing softly in pleasure as the flavours burst across his tongue.

“Oh my god,  _Stiles,”_  Derek murmured, “you’re amazing.”

Stiles could feel the blush creep up his cheeks as he opened his mouth to respond, but Erica chose that moment to enter the kitchen, her face a gleeful mask of evil. “Derek’s talking dirty to Stiles, you guys- dinner’s ready!”

Stiles snorted and slapped her hand when she stole Derek’s fork and tried to taste some herself. “You can wait.”

“Oh what? How come he gets to try it?”

“Because he actually helped make it, while you jerks just sat around and did nothing.”

“You hate us being in the kitchen,” Erica protested.

“I hate you being in the kitchen and getting in my way while not actually helping,” Stiles corrected.

The rest of the pack filed in and began to set the table.

“I think you just like having Derek dirty-talk you while you  _provide_  for him.”

Stiles resolutely refused to look at Derek as he finished with the stick blender, turned off the gas and returned the beef cheeks to the pot. “Trust me, that’s not dirty talk.” When he turned back from fetching the mashed potato, Stiles froze when he found everyone staring at him. “What?”

“You said that with a fair bit of authority, Stiles,” Lydia told him with a sly smile.

Stiles frowned.

“Almost like you were something of an expert on the subject,” Allison agreed.

“Now how would someone become so knowledgeable about that?” Erica asked innocently.

“Porn,” Jackson, Scott, Isaac and Boyd all answered at the same time, carrying everything to the table for them all to settle around it.

Stiles laughed and grabbed a bowl from the stack in the middle of the table, filling it with an enormous serving of loose and creamy mashed potato and beef and red wine casserole to place in front of Derek. He gestured to the food and let the others serve themselves, watching as Derek smiled contentedly at them before turning his attention back to the women. “So much porn,” he confirmed.

“Come on,” Allison snorted, “it’s not like porn is known for its exposition.”

“The good stuff is,” Boyd interjected, settling back with his own full bowl.

“The best stuff isn’t,” Jackson argued, accepting a high five from Isaac in agreement.

Erica took a huge mouthful of dinner and smiled her approval at Stiles. “But I’ve seen your porn, Stiles- most of the guys have their mouths too full of dick to do much speaking.”

There was nothing slow or subtle about the blush that flamed to life across Stiles’ cheeks. “Jesus  _fuck_ , Erica you can’t just say shit like that at  _dinner_.” The rest of the pack were frozen in stunned disbelief at the turn the conversation had taken, and Stiles froze in the middle of serving himself a helping. “Wait… when did you see my porn?”

Erica looked entirely too proud of herself. “You remember the day I messaged to ask if I could borrow your calculus notes when you were at lacrosse practice and you told me to just go into your room and take the blue flash drive from off your desk?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “There was no porn on that.”

“There was on your computer,” she told him smugly.

“Very interesting that you had another cell phone there, too,” Lydia added casually, taking a sip from her glass of water.

“Oh  _no,”_  Stiles breathed.

“Oh  _yes,”_  Erica, Allison and Lydia all grinned in eerie synchronicity.

Derek frowned at the dynamic thrumming across the table and the way the serving spoon hung limply from Stiles’ hand. “What are you talking about?” he asked Lydia, gently taking the spoon from Stiles and using it to fill a bowl for him, pleased when Stiles accepted it with a sweetly distracted smile.

“Stiles here has been experimenting with 1-900 numbers,” Erica said gleefully.

Silence for a beat, then Jackson couldn’t help himself. “I know you’re hopeless, Stilinski,” he said laughingly, “but that’s pretty desperate, even for you.”

“Wrong end, idiot,” Lydia told him witheringly.

It took a moment, but the explosion of words that erupted once that little tidbit had sunk in was enough to make Stiles groan and cover his face with one hand.

“You  _what?”_  Jackson exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Wait,” Scott added, confused. “You do what?”

“This is the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Isaac muttered.

“Nice work, Stiles,” Boyd added over the sound of Erica cackling. “I hear that can pay pretty well.”

Slinging at grateful smile at Boyd- the one person in the pack Stiles actually liked in that moment- Stiles shrugged. “I’m making about six hundred bucks at the moment, so I can’t complain.”

“Wait,” Scott said, eyes wide, “you make six hundred dollars a week doing that?”

“A night,” Stiles corrected, finally managing to taste the dinner he’d made. “Great potatoes, Derek,” he said desperately, smiling at Derek again. “Perfect amount of garlic.” Derek’s expression said he knew exactly what Stiles was doing, but he still humoured him with a smile in return.

“Can we just back the hell up for a second?” Jackson interrupted incredulously. “Are you seriously telling us that you’re making six hundred dollars a night just for moaning into the phone for some creep?”

Stiles scowled. “No, I’m telling you that I talk to people on the phone about whatever the hell it is they want to talk about for as long as they want to talk about it. Sometimes that involves moaning, sometimes it doesn’t.” At Boyd’s curious eyebrows Stiles grinned and shrugged. “There’s a guy from Cincinnati who calls during every Game Of Thrones episode so we can talk about it while it’s airing.”

“So  _that’s_  why you never wanted to come over and watch it with us,” Allison said, understanding dawning.

“I’d love to,” Stiles reassured her, “but this guy is willing to pay two ninety-nine per minute if I watch it with him, so…”

“Averaging forty-five minutes per episode, that’s one hundred and thirty five dollars,” Lydia said appraisingly.

“What can I say?” Stiles snorted. “Dudes dig nerds.”

“I just can’t picture it,” Isaac said eventually. “I mean, no offence Stiles, but you’re maybe the least sexiest talker ever. You ramble. How is that hot? How are there people out there who find that hot enough to pay for it?”

“Offence  _definitely_  taken,” Stiles shot back. “It’s a job, dude. I can compartmentalise, you know?”

“I’m personally having a hard time imagining you not giggling the first time someone told you they wanted you to suck their-”

“Erica,” Derek said, tone firm. “All of you. Whatever Stiles does in his free time is his business, but this is dinner. Can we please talk about anything else.”

There was silence for a while as they all tried valiantly to think of something else.

“How about those Mets?” Stiles asked eventually, making Derek huff a laugh and kick his foot beneath the table, neither of them saying a word  when he left his foot resting between both of Stiles’.

*

“You really talk dirty to guys on the phone?” Erica whispered later, curled up between Derek and Stiles with her head on his shoulder as they watched  _Die Hard_. Because:  _Die Hard_. See also: Bruce Willis in a filthy tank top.

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered back.

“Do you like it?”

Stiles shrugged a little, pretending not to notice the way Derek turned his face slightly towards them as though he was listening in to their conversation. “Mostly. Some of it’s creepy and fucked up, but I hang up on that shit. The majority of it is lonely guys who just want to talk for a bit and get off at the end. But some of it is hot as hell, which is cool.”

“Do you get off to it?”

Stiles’ laugh was just a soft huff of breath. “Not as much as I used to. It gets kind of repetitive after a while, but sometimes.”

Erica was silent for a while, apparently thinking it all over. “Is it just dudes, or do you talk to women too?”

“Mostly guys,” Stiles said. “I’ve only ever had two women call, one who stuck around for a while and would call every other week, and that was fun because it was different. I do have a few couples that call, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Erica asked, perking up.

“That’s pretty hot, not gonna lie.”

“I still have a hard time imagining you being all sexy and shit over the phone,” she confessed. “I mean, you’re hotter than the sun, obviously, but how is it not super awkward?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Stiles murmured wryly. “And I guess I got over it being awkward because it’s just words, and at the end of the day it’s just a job and it’s impersonal which makes it easy. It lets me help Dad with the bills and fix stuff on the Jeep the same as if I worked in a bank.” He paused thoughtfully. “But I’m really good at it, too.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Erica told him, knocking her head against his jaw and making him laugh.

They watched the movie for another couple of minutes until Stiles got up. “Bathroom,” he murmured, but to Derek he smelled like mischief and intent.

Sure enough, less than a minute after he’d disappeared, Erica’s phone began vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out and frowned when she saw Stiles’ name and a photo of the two of them on the screen. She swiped across to accept the call and brought the phone to her ear.

“Don’t say anything,” Stiles told her immediately, his voice at a deeper register than usual and with a slight husk to it. “You said you couldn’t imagine me doing anything like this, and I know how you feel about questions left unanswered, but I thought maybe if I called and showed you you’d understand.”

Erica’s eyes lit up and she glanced around the room to see if anyone else was listening. Isaac and Jackson were throwing popcorn at each other, Scott and Allison were making out in one of the armchairs, Lydia was reading something on her phone and Boyd looked like he’d fallen asleep on the floor with his head cushioned on her feet. She looked at Derek and saw the flush high on his cheekbones, so she grinned and shifted on the couch so she was pressed against his side, her phone between their ears so he could listen in, too.

“Do you know what I like about you, baby?” he murmured, a shiver coursing through her at the suggestion in his tone. “I like your legs. Love them. All those miles of smooth, sexy skin, the way the muscles flex and lengthen in your thighs as you walk. I like to imagine what they’d feel like, all that hot, satiny skin clamped against the sides of my face as you rode my mouth, the sweet taste of you thick and tart on my tongue. Licking into you until goosebumps rose on your skin and you were going wild with it, panting and screaming as I fucked you with my tongue until you came.

“I love how fair your skin is, too. It must look gorgeous, you so pale and that gorgeous man of yours so dark. What I wouldn’t give to watch his hand gliding across your belly, sliding up to cup your breasts and suck on your nipple with just a hint of pink tongue. I’d pay to watch you two together, watch his big cock sliding in and out of you, shining from all the slick your pretty pussy would make for him.

“Or maybe, beautiful baby, maybe we’d make you sit in a chair with your legs up on the arms and your cunt bared for me to worship with my fingers and mouth while he fucked me. Would you like that, honey? Would you like to watch your man fuck me while I revered you like the goddess you are? Moaning into the most private part of you as his cock rubs over my prostate, making my balls draw up tighter and firmer as I desperately tried to get you off before I came? Maybe with one sneaky finger pressing-- just the slightest hint of pressure-- over your asshole, already wet with your slick?”

Erica jolted on the couch as Derek pulled away from her, heading straight for spiral staircase that led upstairs. He went straight for his bedroom, not bothering to knock as he opened the door and stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself.

Stiles grinned wide from where he was reclined back against Derek’s pillows, phone to his ear. “Would you like it if we both fucked you, sweetheart? You on hands and knees with a cock in your mouth and one in your pussy, setting up a rhythm so hard and fast you can’t do anything but take it?” His voice was the worst kind of tease, and Derek was helpless to do anything but stare at him with his back pressed to the door until Stiles patted the comforter next to himself. “Or maybe with you riding his huge cock while I slid into your ass from behind, pinning you there so you can do nothing but feel, nothing but moan and squirm?”

He paused for a moment before laughing long and loud, tossing his phone onto the bed. Beneath them, in the living room, Derek heard Erica cross the room to wake Boyd and drag him from the loft, Lydia grumbling about rude departures and Isaac complaining about the cloud of arousal Erica left in her wake.

Stiles finally met Derek’s eyes, expression chagrined. “Sorry you heard that.”

Derek wasn’t expecting the blip in Stiles’ heartbeat, so it took him a moment. “No you’re not,” he said, confused.

Stiles groaned and threw himself onto his belly, burying his face in Derek’s pillow, which did nothing to hide the sudden pinkness of the skin on the back of his neck. “Okay,” he said muffled, “maybe that just makes it that much hotter. Sorry.”

Grinning at the second stutter in Stiles’ heartbeat, Derek shook his head. “You’re not sorry at all.” He inhaled deeply and caught the tang of arousal, the honey-sweet desire Stiles was getting all over his bedding, and he  _wanted_ , ached with desire of his own.

Turning his head on the pillow and looking at Derek with one eye, Stiles cocked his eyebrow. “I-- no,” he said slowly, taking in the megawatt smile Derek was aiming his way. “No, I guess I’m not.” He shoved himself up to sitting and stared at Derek. “Is… that okay?”

Derek shrugged with studied nonchalance as he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Stiles. “That depends,” he said slowly. He felt Stiles shuffle across the bed, close enough to touch but waiting to do so.

“Depends on what?” he asked softly.

“On whether or not you’re going to make a habit of getting pack members off over the phone.”

Stiles groaned and dropped his head forward to rest at the base of his neck. “I was proving a point,” he said. “You know I don’t-- that I could never--”

Derek reached behind himself to find Stiles’ hand and draw if forward to rest on his belly. “I know,” he laughed. “I was just teasing.”

“Right,” Stiles said. “So what’s your actual proviso?”

“That you want this,” Derek said easily, unsurprised when Stiles used the arm wrapped around him to pull him onto his back, shifting to throw a leg over his thighs and stare down into his face.

“Really?” he demanded, incredulous hope on his face. “You’re really unsure whether or not I’m into you, or that I want this?”

Derek shrugged, his hands coming to rest on Stiles’ thighs. “Just making sure.”

His expression suddenly turning hesitant, Stiles drew back a little. “If this is just because of the,” he waved a vague hand, “talking thing, I should probably tell you now that I’m actually pretty quiet. You know. During. During sex.”

“I don’t think I’d mind if you wanted to sing show tunes during sex,” Derek said simply. “It’s you and me, Stiles. That’s what I’m into.”

The smile he got in return for that confession was breathtaking and Stiles lit up. His eyes sparkling in the soft lamplight in the room. “Yeah?” he breathed, arousal surrounding them and making Derek’s body react.

“Absolutely,” Derek promised.

Stiles leaned down, hands on either side of Derek’s head, and tentatively pressed their mouths together, gentle and with great care.

He had planned on taking it slow, he honestly had, but the warmth of those perfect, warm lips against his made Derek groan and his hands came up to hold Stiles’ face in place, deepening the kiss and flicking the tip of his tongue gently against Stiles’ lips to coax him into opening up.

Which he did, beautifully and without hesitation, allowing his body to collapse down against Derek’s as their kiss deepened, turning into a sensuous exploration of lips, teeth and tongue. Stiles’ hands shifted restlessly, going from exploring the planes of Derek’s face, lingering over his eyebrows and the scruff on his jaw, to sliding proprietarily down his throat, along his collarbone, kneading across his pectorals and scraping blunt nails down the ridges of his abdominals and up beneath his shirt to tease at the hair beneath his navel.

Smiling in satisfaction at the broken moan that elicited, Stiles drew back so he could shove Derek’s shirt up beneath his arms, sighing in satisfaction at the skin he bared. “Oh,” he sighed happily, before scooting back where he was sat across Derek’s legs and applying his mouth to finding every erogenous spot on Derek’s torso.

“Jesus, Stiles,” he ground out, sounding tortured in the best way. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

Stiles froze, then looked up at Derek, his expression fixed into one of innocence that Derek wasn’t buying for a second. “You could tell me,” he suggested.

Derek’s face and ears felt like they were on fire. “You’d want to hear that kind of thing? From me? Even after doing it as a job?”

With a laugh Stiles teased one of Derek’s nipples with his tongue. “I would watch you shovel dirt if I was a gardener,” he promised. “Whatever you want to do, I’m super into it.”

Derek grabbed a hold of Stiles and flipped them so he was pressing the human into the bed. “Good,” he said, “because there are a lot of things I’ve wanted to say to you,” he said, scraping his teeth gently against the sharp edge of Stiles’ jaw. “Wanted to tell you how beautiful you are, how crazy you make me.”

“Really?” Stiles gasped, arching his back and raising his arms over his head for Derek to pull his t-shirt off.

“Oh yes,” Derek told him. “Wanted to tell you how bright and clever you are, how breathtaking it is to watch you as you work things out, as your mind flies from one point to another and somehow makes the most incredible connections that no one else can see.”

Stiles’ body stilled beneath Derek but Derek was too caught up in exploring every inch of skin that he could reach to pay it much mind.

“Wanted to tell you that I hear you, even when you’re saying things that make no sense and that seem meaningless, I hear what you  _aren’t_  saying. I hear the things that mean something to you. Your cleverness and your wit are breathtaking, darling.”

The endearment fell from Derek’s lips as easily as breathing as he continued cataloguing every scar, every mole, every tendon and muscle and joint with his hands. “Watching you move, the power in your body, the way you carry yourself… it’s like watching poetry in motion. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to wrap my hands around your hips, how long I’ve waited to feel your strong arms pull me in and hold me close as our bodies rocked together?”

His hands shifted down until he could unbutton Stiles’ pants, slowly drawing down the zipper with a smirk. “You’re the perfect mate, did you know that? Fast, strong, clever, resourceful… all qualities that wolves look for. And what Erica said at dinner, about providing for me? Do you have any idea what that does to me? What the closeness of you accepting my touch makes the wolf inside of me feel? I preen beneath your attention, Stiles.”

With slow, careful hands and eager, covetous eyes Derek drew Stiles’ cock up and out of his boxers, the velvety skin hot in his hand. “And this,” Derek said, licking his palm before jacking Stiles slowly, eyes fixed on the flushed near-purple head, “this is for me, too, isn’t it? Look how good you are for me, showing me how good I make you feel.”

“Derek,” Stiles groaned, the words filling his ears and the hands touching him nearly as intimately almost too much for him. “Derek, baby, please--”

“Shh,” Derek hushed him. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Oh my god.” The exhalation was sharp as Derek moved down the bed and used his tongue to lave the head of Stiles’ dick before swallowing it down, perfectly hot and wet suction driving Stiles crazy. He threaded his hands in Derek’s hair and tried as best he could not to lose his mind. “Fuck, Derek… oh, right there, yeah.”

Derek’s answering chuckle was rough and muffled, but the vibrations of it were enough to shove Stiles right to the edge. “Derek, I’m about to come,  _fuck_ \--”  His voice cut out as his orgasm smashed through him, the force of it making his teeth clench as his thighs seized and his abdominals began cramping, throat frozen on a silent scream. Derek just used his gentle hands to hold Stiles’ hips steady as he took it all, swallowing everything he had to offer.

Stiles’ heart was racing fit to burst as Derek pressed an affectionate kiss to his belly before crawling back up to lie beside him. He rolled onto his side and pulled Derek in as close as he could, burying his face at the base of his throat.

“That,” he managed eventually, “was the sweetest, most ridiculous dirty talk I have ever heard.” When he felt Derek stiffen in his arms and begin to draw away, Stiles made a petulant noise of dissent and held on tighter. “Derek, I had no idea… about any of it, really.” He pulled back a little and looked up into Derek’s face. “Did you really mean it? Everything you said?”

“Of course,” Derek said, his eyes intense. “I want you, any way I can have you.”

“All the ways,” Stiles promised. “You can have me all the ways.”

Derek grinned and leaned down to kiss Stiles, slow and sure. “I’ll take you up on that.”

*

When Stiles woke up the next morning-- naked, sticky, aching and utterly sated-- he had a message from Boyd.

 _You need to up your rate_ , it said, and Stiles laughed so hard he woke Derek, and they spent the rest of the morning making love.


End file.
